


Every Rose

by MaddyHughes



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal Lecter Sings Power Rock Ballads, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 03:45:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12832614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddyHughes/pseuds/MaddyHughes
Summary: Hannibal Lecter, hiding incognito in a cabin in the woods, writes to his love, Will Graham. About karaoke.





	Every Rose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darlinghogwarts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlinghogwarts/gifts).



My dearest Will,

As you know, since arriving at this rural location I have become acquainted with my nearest neighbor, an accomplished fisherman and woodsman called Jebediah Peck. He has quite possibly the most extraordinary beard I have ever seen. Last night, after dinner, I was settling down in my cabin for a night’s reading when Jebediah knocked on my door.

‘There’s singin’ down the road apiece,’ he said when I answered, and jerked his head (he is a man of few words).

I’d had no intention of going out that evening—my afternoon’s activities had physically exhausted me and the resulting meal hadn’t fully restored my vigour. But I was interested in what sort of concert the local population would be staging. And to be frank, I missed you, Will. I knew that if I stayed in by myself, I would fall into thinking about you, and although my memory palace is both vivid and vast, it is becoming, as the days pass, poorer and poorer consolation for the lack of your company.

So I decided to venture out and meet the area’s music lovers.

‘Y’can’t wear that,’ Jebediah told me. So I changed out of my shirt and tie into a much more casual cashmere sweater and slacks. Jebediah gave me what I can only describe as _a look_ , though it was difficult to be certain because of his plethora of facial hair. In the end, I wore—well, it’s a little embarrassing to admit it, but I wore one of your flannel shirts which I may have packed in my suitcase by mistake.

Imagine my chagrin when Jebediah led me not to a concert hall, but to what I can only describe as a ‘honky tonk’. I quickly realized that the ‘singing’ was not a programme of choral music but a karaoke machine with a repertoire of the past fifty years’ hits.

In order not to be rude, I bought Jebediah and myself a drink. It was home-brewed beer. When I remarked, truthfully, to the barman that it was very tasty, he insisted I also try his homemade cider, his homemade blackberry wine, and his homemade bathtub gin. All of them were surprisingly palatable; I’m beginning to think that the woods around here breed peculiar geniuses.

It didn’t take long before Jebediah and his friends were urging me to take my place at the microphone. I offered to sing an _a cappella_ ‘Agnes Dei’ but they insisted I use the karaoke machine, and handed me a heavy folder listing the available songs. I recognized none of them.

‘Here, try this one,’ said Jebediah, pointing at something called ‘Sharp-Dressed Man’ by a group called ZZ Top. This was clearly a poorly-disguised barb, but the bathtub gin ameliorated my response to his rudeness. Instead, I chose a song at random. My finger alighted on ‘Every Rose Has Its Thorn’ by a band called Poison. Its lyrics were almost Blakean in their simplicity:

_‘Every rose has its thorn_

_It’s like every night has its dawn_

_It’s like every cowboy sings a sad, sad song_

_Every rose has its thorn.’_

My singing was quite well-received—so much so that I was immediately urged to sing another. This time I chose according to the title and ended up singing something called ‘Bad Romance.’

Do you know it, Will? One or two of the lines could almost be applied to our relationship. 

Suffice it to say that the evening ended at quite an advanced hour, and that I now have a case of blackberry wine for us to sample when I return to Lecter Castle. My dreams, that night, featured you slicked with the Red Dragon's blood, writhing in the moonlight singing _'Rah rah ah-ah-ah! Ro mah ro-mah-mah!'_

It was strangely...captivating. I confess I still feel a little drunk this morning.

I hope I will be with you again soon, _mylimasis_. Until then, please keep yourself safe and well.

_Aš myliu tave, mano širdis_.

 

Always,

H.L.  
  
        


End file.
